


maturation

by willowcabins



Series: purim gifts ficlets [3]
Category: Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 3, F/F, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 23:00:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6303529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willowcabins/pseuds/willowcabins





	maturation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seekingferret](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekingferret/gifts).



Jess was falling part at the seams again; Trish could read the signs. Jess was frustrated: she couldn't find Luke, her trial was dragging along painfully slowly and Kilgrave's death hadn't actually _healed_ anything. Trish cold feel the waves of anxiety and despair roll off Jess every time she stumbled into the apartment, finger fumbling while eyes remained sharp and focused. Trish remembered a line from her psychiatrist: wounds heal, but scars remain forever. This seemed hauntingly real for Jess as she leaned against Trish's counter and spat out blood.

"I don't understand why you had to start a fight," Trish sighed. Jess laughed wryly and took a swig of the whiskey bottle on the edge of the sink.

"Someone needed to stop them."

"Jess -"

"Anyway, I felt like a fight."

"Jess-"

"What?"

"You need to sleep."

"I can't."

"Sleep over here then."

"My clothes are full of blood."

"Just your shirt. We can chuck it in the washer. It'll be clean in the morning."

"I'll be fine, Trish."

"Fine?" Trish snorted. "I know everything is really dumb right now, Jess, but you have to remember-"

"Remember /what/? That I might still end up in prison for the very justified murder of the worst person in the world? or that I haven't found Luke yet? so I can't apologise to him for everything that I did? He's too good at hiding, and a part of me wants to respect that, but another part can't help but remember what he /looked/ like when I shot him in the head with a shotgun?! You want me to remember that, Trish?" Trish stood at the counter and accepted this tirade unquestionably. Jess talking, even if she was angry talking an spitting and her hands we shacking and she was digging her hands into the granite, was far better than silent Jess. Trish watched her shoulders tense and bit her lip. "I don't want to remember, Trish," she whispered. Trish sighed and squared her soldier.

"Jess, do you love me?" She asked. It was a simple question.

Jess blinked at her for a fraction of a second before she replied forcefully: "Yes." The stared at each other, both of them oddly surprised by the strength of Jess's answer. Trish recovered first.

"Then stop," she said, but her voice was oddly hoarse. Jess started at her. "Stop _this_." She said.

"What?"

"I need you to stop hating yourself, and I need you to stop being angry."

"I can't sto-"

"No, no you can't," Trish agreed, burying her face in her hands. All the phrases, all the advice and still she couldn't stop herself. "But you can ask for help, instead of beating up three muggers. You can come to my apartment without a bleeding lip and a black eye and say 'Trish, I need you,' and I would help. I keep getting told by people that I can't help you until you help yourself, Jess, but I want to /force/ you to help yourself. I want to twist your arm until you ask me for something concrete. I can't just listen and give you ice and painkillers while I watch you hurt yourself. We've done this. It's all the same thing. I don't want this for us."

When Jess kissed her, Trish knew this wasn't going to  _actually_ solve any problems. But she kissed Jess back, tasted blood, and knew that it didn't matter if Jess got herself killed trying to avoid all this pain: Trish would never stop loving her.


End file.
